Some Like It Hot
by Maple Fay
Summary: A new nurse arrives at the 4077th, and turns Margaret's perfect life upside down, forcing her to decide where her heart really belongs. A story of friendship, romance, and misunderstandings. Rated for safety.
1. Chapter 1

As much Margaret Houlihan hated the rain, she had had enough of the heat

**A****/N:** Hi there! It's me again! I know I've just finished writing my previous story, but since my MASH obsession has been torturing my troubled mind as of late, I need to get a few more ideas out ;) I also remember I promised some people to write a sequel for "Strong Enough", but I want to give this project some time to settle down, in order not to spoil it. Anyway, here's a new thing from me, I hope you enjoy it :)

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As much Margaret Houlihan hated the rain, she had had enough of the heat. The temperature and humidity of South Korean summer drove her nuts, and as far as the forecasts were concerned there were no chances of the temperature dropping until the week after next.

Unbearable, she thought, pinning her hair up and splashing some cool water over her neck. She even decided to change her tee for a tank top, which she didn't usually feel comfortable wearing, but right now she figured the less she wore the better.

Why on _Earth_ did they have to send a new nurse in on a day like this? They had wounded coming in like a tidal wave for the last four days, forced to practically move into OR in all that heat, and finally when Margaret thought she might be able to get some rest (disturbed only, if ever, by cold showers taken every couple of hours) the announcement of a new staff member coming over from Seoul had arrived. As much as she felt grateful for an additional pair of hands, Margaret wasn't exactly looking forward to 'filling in' yet another girl.

Who would, most probably, become an object of not-so-subtle assaults from one Hawkeye Pierce, she thought grimly and winced. Why would _he_ always come to her mind whenever she wasn't paying attention to the course of her thoughts? Well, yes, he helped her a lot through her divorce the month before last, and the night when they operated in the abandoned hospital during the shelling gave her a slightly different image of his character than she had until now, but that certainly wasn't the reason to deliberate over him so much! She's never felt like this towards the Chief Surgeon, not even during their 'episode' in that abandoned hut on their way to the 8063rd… Oh no, not again! She mentally slapped herself, making a firm resolution to forget that unfortunate night once and for all. It's been months since that happened, and yet, from time to time, she would catch herself on pondering about this or that detail, which definitely wasn't right.

Oh, no. Not at all.

Shaking the troubling thoughts off herself, Margaret walked out of her tent and staggered slightly as the sun and heat hit her with full force. Moaning, she strolled towards the Colonel's office, where the jeep was most likely to stop when it came, and sat down on a small bench next to the entrance, where the roof provided a wee shadow. Half of the bench was already occupied by Corporal Klinger, who flashed her a smile and marked a salute.

"Excuse me for not standing up, Major, my feet must have melted down somewhere around yesterday."

"At ease," she murmured sympathetically, and dropped down on the bench next to him. "Are we in Hell already, or is it just some wicked kind of a purgatory, where we're supposed to lose the better part of our body weight by constant sweating?"

"I wouldn't know that, Major, but I'd sure be happy to get out of here on the double."

"Same goes for me. Did you hear anything about what time should the transport from Seoul arrive? I could really use another shower right now."

"Sorry, Ma'am, not a clue."

"Thanks anyway." She wondered whether she was too sweet on him, but she didn't really feel like snapping around at people in all that heat. Leaning her head against the wall, she closed her eyes and dozed off.

She woke up at the sound of an engine running somewhere close, and blinked a couple of times, feeling hot and dizzy, dark spots dancing in front of her eyes. The skin on her face, neck and shoulders was burning, for the sun has moved while she was sleeping and burnt her red, her bangs were plastered to her sticky, sweaty forehead… Not the best looks one could get when greeting their new personnel, but she figured the girl/woman wouldn't look much better herself.

Just as she tried to console herself with that thought, the jeep pulled up into the compartment, revealing the shape and form of Margaret's new nurse. The blonde Major moaned, feeling her spirits drop rapidly.

The woman in the passenger seat was wearing a dark-brown tank top similar to Margaret's, khaki trousers rolled up to expose her smooth, tanned calves, and a pair of standard military ankle-high shoes, but she didn't look like she was hot. Her skin had a dark tone typical for people of Latin-American or Italian descent, and there was not a drop a sweat on it, not even the sticky-mushy layer of moisture Margaret used to get on herself whenever the temperature would rise rapidly. The newcomer was slim, though the top hardly concealed the fact that her body was deliciously formed in all the right places. Her hair fell past her shoulders in a chocolate brown wave, bangs short enough for one to see her carefully formed eyebrows, and two sets of eyelashes around doe-like, brown eyes.

And on top of that, she wore _full make-up_ that _wasn't_ running!

Margaret had the feeling she'd have some trouble getting to like the new girl.

The brunette jumped off the jeep and took her bag (just one, Margaret noticed instantly, and looking as if it was filled with books rather than clothes) off the back, saying goodbye to the driver, who seemed to be totally mesmerized by her. He shook her hand vigorously and pulled back, beaming at her when she waved to him cheerfully. She then turned to face Margaret and smiled at her, taking a few steps forward. Before the Major could react, however, Colonel Potter went through his door and passed her, opening his arms to greet the newcomer.

"Captain Brown!" he exclaimed with a smile. "We're so glad to have you here!"

"And vice versa, Colonel," the woman responded, saluting perfectly before giving the CO a strong, definite handshake. "I'm really looking forward to working with your people. Did you get my letter?"

"I sure did. I'm really happy to have around a person who actually performed arterial transplants on the state side. Our Chief Surgeon will be more than exhilarated to work with you."

"I'll do my best to prove myself worthy of my position, Colonel."

"Good. Now," he turned to Margaret, placing a hand on Captain Brown's back, "let me present our Head Nurse, Major Margaret Houlihan. Major, this is Captain Alicia Brown, your new second in command. I hope you two get along well, especially since we decided to put Captain Brown in your tent, since she's got a higher rank than the rest of the nurses."

Margaret gaped at him, forgetting she should welcome the new nurse. "Excuse me?"

"I know this may come as a bit of a shock, Major, but we have only found out about Captain Brown's promotion last week. We'll put the Captain in the VIP tent for a while, and proceed to rearrange the setting of your tent. For now, I would like you to show our new nurse around, and fill her into her duties as well as your own. Have a nice day, ladies."

He turned to go back into his office, but paused after just a couple of steps. "Oh, Major… When you're finished with giving Captain Brown a guided tour, I would advise for her to pay an uncalled-for visit to the Swamp."

Margaret gaped at him, still in shock from his recent revelations. "Why is that, Colonel?"

"Just go there, and you'll see," he answered curtly, and smiled mischievously. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Captain."

"The pleasure is all mine," Alicia Brown answered, and turned to Margaret with a friendly smile on her face. "I am very sorry to come upon you this way, Major Houlihan. However, I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure our co-operation as smooth and effective as possible." Her smile changed, being now a little shy, more feminine-like. "I also hope we could be friends, even if not now, then maybe one day. Would you please consider calling me Ali?"

"Yes," Margaret answered weakly, feeling her head pounding from the heat and the great amount of information she has been forced to process in such a short time. "Whatever you say, Captain…"

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**A/N:** So, what do you think? Will it do for a start? How could Captain Brown's presence affect the life of the 4077th? And what _exactly_ is she supposed to do at the Swamp? Stay tuned for the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

She was smart, respectful and funny

**A/N:** Hi everyone, many thanks for the reviews! There were quite a few questions about Captain Brown and her possible relationship with some of the 4077th staff, but what can I say? You'll have to stick to it for at least two more chapters to get a clear picture on that one ;)

Hope you enjoy this installment, though…

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She was smart, respectful, and yet quite funny.

She had a vast knowledge, and two years of experience working at Boston Mercy Hospital, before having been transferred to a VA one in Washington six months prior.

Her father had been working for the military for ten years when she was a girl, so she had possessed all the necessary knowledge of Army regulations even before she began her military training.

She was fit, strong and energetic.

Margaret gained all these information during the 'guided tour' she made for Captain Alicia Brown, and was quite sure there would be many issues to overcome before she could actually start to like her.

The woman was just too perfect! Making it to a Captain at twenty-eight, without any protection? Having more than two years of experience working as a nurse, assisting at some procedures Margaret has only just learned recently? Boy, that was hard to accept.

She smiled a lot, and dropped in small 'Oh, really?'s and 'That's wonderful's, hoping that Alicia wouldn't notice. Inside, she was boiling with silent fury.

Margaret J. Houlihan was far from having problems with self-evaluation. She knew she was smart, sharp and energetic herself, not to mention good-looking enough to have sent quite some men head over heels for her. She had a name that meant something, and… _friends_… in all the important places. She was a very good nurse, the best they've had in the 4077th, maybe even in the whole Korea, and the people here knew it very well.

They also knew _her_ very well, which hasn't always been a good thing.

But they also liked, or at least _respected_ her, and that was the part she was going to hold on to for a while, until she had a closer look on Captain Brown here. No point getting jealous over a younger, lower-ranked woman, was there?

Better leave the question unanswered, she decided.

"That's it for now, Captain," she faked a smile, turning to Alicia as they walked out of the supply tent. "Would you like to rest for a while before the staff meeting? It will take place at nineteen-hundred hours, at the Colonel's office."

The brunette looked at her with a small smile on her lips. "What about the Swamp, Major? I'm quite curious about the place, the name sounds outrageous for a hospital."

Right. Potter's secret instructions, whatever-they-were-about. "I'm sorry, I let it slip out of my mind. Let's go then, it's just around the corner."

She did not bother to knock. They were probably indecent anyway. "Gentlemen, I would like you to meet our new nurse," she said firmly, looking around. Charles stood up right away, closing the book he was reading but marking the place with his index finger. Hunnicut took a little longer to react: he was helping himself with that poison from the still. Pierce was nowhere to be seen.

"Captain Alicia Brown," Margaret presented her second in command, "Major Charles Emerson Winchester." The young woman saluted, and shook Charles' hand with a smile that made his eyes go blurry and his breath catch in his breast. Cheap trick, Margaret decided.

"Captain BJ Hunnicut." The other surgeon didn't trouble himself with saluting; he took Alicia's proffered hand and held it in his. "Haven't we met somewhere?" he asked, frowning in an attempt to remember. She eyed him carefully, and after a moment her face lightened up with realization.

"Medical conference in Los Angeles, April last year? You had an argument with our chief surgeon, Dr Miles, about open heart massage techniques… and then danced with most of our female staff. You didn't have the moustache by that time, am I correct?"

BJ laughed, and gave her a 'you got me there' look. "You have a remarkable memory. I don't remember, however, whether I danced with _you_, Captain Brown."

"Please – Ali."

"Well then, Ali, did we dance together that night?"

"I'm afraid we didn't." She laughed as well, still holding his hand.

"Then we'll have to catch up on this matter in the nearest future."

"I'll be more than glad to do so."

"Say you join me and my friend, our third surgeon who happens to be in the shower right now, for a drink at the Officers' Club after the staff meeting tonight? We could fill you in on the funnier part of life we have around here."

"That would be great, Captain Hunnicut."

"BJ," he said, releasing her hand with a strange, almost sorry look in his eyes. She smiled at him, her features softening. "BJ," she repeated quietly, and turned to Margaret and Charles, both of whom were listening to their conversation, dumbstruck. "I guess we fulfilled the Colonel's orders, Major. With your permission, I shall now leave for my quarters."

"Permission granted," Margaret said automatically, snapping out of the trance she and Charles had fallen into. "Sorry to have disturbed your free time," she added looking at the two surgeons who instantly burst into a chatter of 'Not at all's or 'Anytime's.

As they closed the door behind themselves, Alicia turned to her supervisor with a frown. "Excuse me, Major, but do you have any idea what this was all about? Clearly the Colonel had something in his mind when he ordered me to come here, but what? He couldn't have known Captain Hunnicut—" she paused and lowered her gaze for a fracture of a second, but quickly regained her composure "—BJ and I know each other."

Margaret shrugged, feeling really tired and concentrating mainly on the idea of having a long, warm shower before the staff meeting. "Maybe it had something to do with our Chief Surgeon, the one you did not meet. You shall see him at the staff assembly."

"Of course," Alicia smiled with understanding. "I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time, Major. I'll see you at the meeting."

With that, both women parted their ways, Alicia heading for the VIP tent, Margaret for her own, which she was supposed to be sharing with the brunette in a short while.

The thought itself troubled her. She was used to having some privacy, as an emergency pressure-relief valve she would open every time the work, the war and people in the camp got too deep under her skin. This was her last resort for keeping insanity at bay, and now she was being deprived of it, forced to accept a roommate, which meant no more music playing quietly all night, no more dancing barefoot in candlelight (yes, she'd do that sometimes, but only to relax her muscles!), no more sleeping naked, or _almost_ naked, on humid summer nights, and – first and foremost – absolutely no _men_!

Not that there was anyone with whom Margaret would share her tent and/or bed in the nearest future. Oh no, no chance for that. Still, there was always a _possibility_ of her meeting someone new, on her R&R or a medical conference, and of his coming over to see how she was doing – what would happen then? Was she supposed to sneak out and into the VIP tent to see him, then creep back in before Alicia woke up? Too much trouble altogether, Margaret decided stepping into the shower compartment and slipping off her robe. She turned on the water, not too cold, but cool enough to bring her the required comfort, and closed her eyes, letting the droplets fall on her face. She wondered why the whole 'male friend' deal troubled her so much. There was nobody, _nobody_ whom she could put on her list of Potentially Interesting Men Not Reminding Her Of Her Ex-Husband right now. After those dirty remarks Lyle made when he came to revise her triage program, she decided she was better off without men – was it possible that mere two months made her rapidly change her mind?

She wouldn't mind if somebody nice came along. Not a General, not even a Colonel, thank you very much, she'd had enough of this thing. Maybe it wasn't the rank she was after anyway? There was so much more to expect from a man: sense of humor, intelligence, caring, benevolent nature, and looks, let us not forget the looks! Since Donald had been blonde and muscular, maybe she should try for somebody of a slightly more delicate body frame this time? Someone tall, dark and handsome, with a charming smile and dazzling eyes that could make her…

…almost drown in the shower. Margaret's eyes snapped open as she realized her imaginary future lover had started to take on far too many features of one MASH doctor. She began to scrub herself with a rough sponge, hoping to get her mind off him. It worked, for now, but left her skin red, hot and burning in turn. As Margaret finally walked out of the shower compartment, feeling even more miserable than she have before, she decided the day couldn't possibly get any worse.

After a short nap that left her feeling cranky and jumpy, Margaret made her way to the Colonel's office, hoping that the meeting would be short and uneventful. When she reached her destination, she found only two people there: Alicia Brown and BJ, leaning casually against the file cabinet and laughing over some in-joke. They tried to compose themselves when she walked in and greeted them with a curt 'Evening', but every time their eyes met they'd burst into another wave of chuckles. Margaret decided to pointedly ignore them, and sat on the chair closest to Potter's desk, while the laughing pair moved to stand behind the door, BJ whispering something into Alicia's ear. The Major couldn't help but notice how unusual his approach towards her was. BJ was well known for keeping some distance, especially the physical one, between himself and the nurses, no matter how friendly they acted towards him. He'd always be polite; he'd joke with them and ask them out for a drink in a jolly company, but he'd _never_ lean over them and whisper confidentially into their ears!

Outrageous, Margaret thought and shook her head disapprovingly, she'd only been here a couple of hours, and she was already leading the one ever-faithful, loving husband astray!

She was sure she'd have many problems with getting to like her.

"Sorry we're late, folks," Potter said, walking through the door with Father Mulcahy and Charles, all of them nursing cups of coffee. "Where's Pierce?"

"He had something to do at the post-op," BJ volunteered, moving away from Alicia in one smooth movement. Margaret forced herself not to snort.

As Alicia was presented to Father Mulcahy (who had obviously fallen into her charm, too), the meeting began, even though there was still no sign of the Chief Surgeon. There were no major problems, questions or applications, and they were about to conclude when Hawkeye Pierce walked into the office, looking dead tired, shabby and grumpy.

"Sorry I'm late, company," he said wearily, "did I miss something?"

"You sure did," Potter smiled with a flicker in his eyes. "Our new nurse, Captain Brown."

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Pierce turned around with an expression of a man hit across his face with a blunt object, and took three shaky steps towards Alicia. She stood up, folding her hands in front of herself, and smiled nervously.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" she asked, her voice trembling audibly.

"I'm thrilled to see you," he replied, reaching out and touching the insignia on her shoulder. "I just hate seeing you here, like that. They should have kept you at the Mercy, girl."

"I wanted to come in with you, if I had to go anyway," she said, and lowered her eyes. "Are you mad at me?"

"Ali," he said softly, urging her to look back at him, "this is one of the best things that have happened to me since I was sent down here. Just don't get yourself killed, will you? What should I say to your father if something happened?"

She smiled mischievously and poked him on the chest. "The same what you always have: 'Mr. Brown, I'm afraid I got Ali into trouble again…' "

He laughed, really laughed, and Margaret realized she hasn't heard him do it for a long time. She'd heard or seen him chuckle, snicker and grin, but it's been quite a while since Hawkeye Pierce _laughed_ heartily for the last time.

"I'm thrilled, baby," he repeated, before bending down and kissing her, just outside the corner of her mouth. "I missed you like hell."

Margaret gaped at them, now hugging openly in the middle of the office, and looked around to see Charles and Father Mulcahy exchanging shocked glances, Colonel Potter grinning like a madman, and BJ sitting in his chair with an unreadable expression upon his face. She sighed and folded her arms, desperately trying to cut off the sound and vision.

Some wicked voice inside her skull told her in a vicious manner there was _no chance_ of her _ever_ getting to like Captain Alicia Brown.

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**A/N:** Ahh, the suspense! What is it between Ali and Hawkeye? How do they know each other? What exactly does BJ want from her? And how is Margaret going to cope with sharing a tent with her? Stay tuned for the upcoming chapters to see the mystery unwind!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Me again! Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter done; I'm still not quite sure I managed to get the emotional layer the way I wanted to, but I do hope it'll enable me to open some more doors in the following ones.

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BJ shook his head in amazement as he listened to the story told by his bunkmate and the new nurse. The three of them sat in the corner of the O-Club, Hawkeye and Ali next to each other, arms linked leisurely, BJ facing them, his back to the room. "I can't believe it start with your _fathers_."

"Well, since they were best mates, they wanted to live next to each other, and bought houses in the same street. They even married girls who were best friends, too, to prevent their wives from disliking each other," Hawkeye explained. "We've been practically raised together."

"Ben's mum used to come around when I was born, to fill my mum in—"

"And Ali's mom took care of me when mother died, and I was too miserable to leave me on my own. Then I returned the favor when I started to take Ali out into the world."

The brunette rolled her eyes and poked him on the ribs. "He means that since I turned ten and we sort of started to 'date', he'd have to make up a new excuse for my father every single week, to explain why my Sunday dress got covered with mud and/or chocolate sauce."

"Was he any good?"

"Oh, quite. He only got grounded a couple of times."

"Yeah, like the day your parents came back earlier and didn't quite accept our explanation that 'playing doctor' actually meant me pretending to be a top-class surgeon, and you an exquisite nurse assisting me."

"I have no idea what got them off so much."

BJ roared with laughter. "Hawkeye playing doctor without actually _playing doctor_? That's what I'd like to see one day."

"Sorry mate, I'm afraid our relationship has evolved greatly since those days," Hawkeye announced in a dead serious manner, before being poked on his ribs again. "Cut it out, will you?"

"I'm just trying to work you up a bit before I hit away with the big question," Alicia retorted, grinning madly. BJ suddenly felt highly interested, while Hawkeye rolled his eyes.

"Will you drop it, for once?"

"Never!" she teased, putting an arm around his shoulders, and looking him in the eye from a close distance. "Now, spill out: who is she?"

"Honestly, Ali—"

"Come _on_, Ben, I can't believe there's no woman around here that didn't make you go just a little bit crazy about her!"

"Oh, he's certainly having his go with as many young ladies as he can," BJ joked, and poured them another round of bourbon.

"That's not what I meant. Benjamin has a tendency to fall head over heels in love with some girl anytime he's around a large group of females for a longer while," Alicia explained, smiling triumphantly at Hawkeye's angry expression. When she continued, her voice took on a romantic overtone typical for Shakespearean actors. "He'd still be harassing all the other girls in sight, but his heart will remain unchanged, partial for the one and only woman…" She giggled madly and ruffled Hawkeye's hair. "My little Ben is such a romantic!"

Margaret, who walked into the Club just in time to hear the last sentence and see the gesture of familiarity being exchanged, snorted audibly and rolled her eyes, as she made her way towards the bar. Hawkeye stiffened a little in Ali's casual embrace, and quirked his brow.

"What's the matter, Major? Something bit you?"

"Whatever bites or doesn't bite me is none of your business, Pierce," she snapped at him, before turning her back at them and ordering a double scotch on the rocks. Alicia observed the whole situation with a smirk.

"You don't say," she murmured, quietly enough not to be heard by anybody except for the two surgeons. "The _Major_? She sure is sharp, but… Well, it never occurred to me you had a taste for army brats."

"Get off me, there's nothing like that going on," Hawkeye protested, but BJ knew him well enough to say that Ali's teasing has touched something in him. He exchanged a know-it-all glance with the brunette, and suddenly decided to play it big. "Ali, do you mind if we finished the conversation we had before the meeting… outside?" She looked at him, surprised, but caught up with his way of thinking in an instant.

"Sure thing. And Ben, while we're gone, go up there and try to talk to the Major. I think she may never like me if she continues to think you and I are… you know, madly in love, about to get married or something."

"I will not discuss my private life, especially my friendship with you, with Margaret Houlihan," Hawkeye answered sharply. "Let her think whatever she wants. She'll figure it out soon enough, she ain't daft."

"Guess we'd better get out of here," BJ murmured, seeing in how foul mood Hawkeye was. He and Ali stood up and left the Club, leaving the Chief Surgeon hosting an almost full glass, and Margaret sipping her drink in hostile silence. Sighing, Hawkeye took his glass and walked over to an empty stool next to her. She shot him a heavy glance, but didn't say anything.

"Will you decapitate me instantly if I sit here?"

"I'll give the idea due consideration."

"Come on, Major, what's eating you? This can't be all about my dear friend Ali, right?"

"Stuff it, buster."

It slowly started to dawn on him she might actually be taking things far more seriously than they really were. "Margaret, you're not even trying to give her a chance."

"You're crazy, Pierce. My attitude towards Captain Brown is strictly professional."

"Like hell," he muttered to himself, and put his hand flat on the counter, next to her forearm – the closest to a physical contact he'd have with her when both of them were in such poor moods. "Margaret, Ali is a great nurse, and I'm sure you'll get to appreciate her in the months to come, but she is also a wonderful person. You could get along pretty well; I, for once, would be more than happy to see the two of you form a truce against my vile character."

Margaret moaned and banged her fist against the bar. "Please leave me alone?"

"Can't do that, I'm afraid. I signed a fulltime contract as your arch-nemesis, remember?"

"Fine, then I'll just go to sleep," she pushed his hand away and made an attempt to down her drink in on go, but he stopped her by putting a strong grip around her wrist. He was starting to feel tired, sick of her defensiveness and irritated by the way she closed herself from him. They've been down that road before, and he was hoping it was far past them now. Unfortunately, Margaret seemed to have her own opinion on the matter.

"You stay, I'll go. We can't have you drinking this hard, Major." With that, he gave her arm a gentle squeeze, gulped down the bourbon and left. Margaret looked away when he made his way towards the door, and bit her lip.

This was all too complicated.

What was it with Alicia Brown that irritated her so immensely? She knew, deep inside, that the girl would be a great subordinate, professional and disciplined, and had the circumstances been different she might even get to like her on a more private plain.

If she wasn't so obviously into Hawkeye Pierce.

_Or was she?_, Margaret wondered. He related to her as a friend, but was she supposed to believe him? She'd seen far too many 'female friends' of his to be easily deceived. On the other hand, Alicia's attitude towards Pierce was warm and cordial, but apart from the welcome kiss – not a passionate one, Margaret had to admit – the two of them shared at Potter's office, there were no more visible signs of affection other than that of brotherly quality.

Still, it was enough to alarm her, make her instantly dislike the woman she knew nothing about (or she did, but it definitely wasn't anything bad), and drag herself to the club to drown some bits of her mind in booze.

Margaret groaned and dropped her head into her hands. Why did it have to be him?, she asked herself yet again. Why not some random man she'd meet on her R&R? That was just her luck, to fall for a complete jerk.

She tried to shrug the troubling thought from her as she finished her drink and strolled out of the O-Club, to witness an unusual sight. Alicia and BJ were sitting on a pole lining the pitch in the middle of the compound, his legs stretched leisurely in front of him, hers pulled up to her chest and wrapped with her arms. They didn't even look at each other, but there was plenty of tension in the air around them. Margaret cleared her throat, and nodded curtly to both of them.

" 'Night, Margaret."

"Goodnight, Major."

"Goodnight," she answered and went pass them, turning around to look their way just before she entered her tent. BJ was saying something to Alicia, leaning over her shoulder, while she still wouldn't look at him, shaking her head ever-so-gently. Something was obviously wrong around the two, Margaret decided, before she finally closed the door and literally collapsed on her bunk, exhausted from the heat and the consumed alcohol.

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"Fifteen straight hours of surgery," Alicia moaned as she lowered her stiff body on her cot in the tent she'd come to share with Margaret on her third day in the 4077th. "I don't think I had this in mind when I signed up for this little trip."

The Major responded with a groan, massaging her temples as she toed off her shoes. "Consider this a short one, Captain."

Alicia sighed inwardly, feeling a bit sorry since Margaret still wasn't calling her by her first name. She got to like, and be liked, by all the other nurses; the work itself was hard and time consuming, but she knew all the procedures and therefore didn't stagger upon that aspect of her life – the only thing that worried her was her bunkmate's cold attitude.

And one other issue she couldn't even force herself to think about. Not when she was this tired, at least.

Back to Margaret, then. Since she was transferred to her tent, Alicia tried to break down the wall between the two of them, to no avail. The Major was extremely polite towards her, but every time Alicia tried to push their conversation onto a more friend-like ground she'd have to face Margaret's firm protest: never outspoken, always hidden behind a veil of mannerliness, but ever-present nonetheless.

Maybe she should just give up on it, just as Ben has suggested her to do. Maybe time would bring a solution to this highly uncomfortable situation. Maybe – but being an open, friendly person, Alicia couldn't stand the thought of somebody being both her supervisor _and_ her bunkmate not liking her.

As she devoured these sad thoughts, Margaret had some troubles of her own to deal with. Jealousy being the most prominent one.

She didn't want to become obsessed with Captain Brown. After the night at the O-Club, she decided her approach towards her second-in-command would be strictly professional, and that nothing – no words, no gestures, no stupid jokes exchanged between her and Pierce – would break down her composure.

She failed on the very first day at the OR, when a casualty requiring arterial transplant was brought in, and Hawkeye called upon Ali without a moment's hesitation. He didn't give Margaret anything, not a quick glance, not a word of apology. Maybe there was nothing to apologize about, she figured, clenching her jaw as she went over to assist Charles and desperately tried not to roll her eyes at his high-and-mighty comments. She didn't mean to listen, but something was doing a very good job in drawing her attention to the faraway table. Alicia and Hawkeye were having a normal, relaxed conversation, as if they were sitting in a bloody restaurant eating lunch, _not_ cutting a young Private open. He never asked her for any tools, she'd hand them to him with excellent timing, and they were done with the procedure faster than Margaret thought possible. Alicia went to assist BJ with his next patient, and this time there was absolutely no talking, although their cooperation was absolutely flawless. Some strange tension hung above their table, but it was released as soon as they dealt with all the casualties and went to have some coffee together, Hawkeye joining them and slipping one arm around BJ's arms, another tugging at Ali's waist. Margaret observed them cheerlessly as she dragged her feet to the mess tent, alone.

They asked her to sit with them. She refused. Pierce made an insignificant joke. She snapped at him. She left.

The routine was replayed the following day.

And the one after that.

On the fourth day Hawkeye came to sit with her. He didn't say a word, he just sat across from her and drank his coffee, not even looking at her.

That was last Monday. It was Wednesday now, and he'd do it everyday. Alicia and BJ never complained. They seemed to be enjoying each other's company, not that they were ever left alone for longer than a couple of minutes: somebody would always join them, be it Radar, Klinger or Father Mulcahy, sometimes even Charles.

No one would ever join Pierce and herself, so they continued to simply sit at the table in the corner, avoiding each other's eyes. If Hawkeye saw Margaret was really tired, he'd walk her back to her tent, making sure she didn't trip over anything in the process. Sometimes he didn't even let her sit down, he'd simply take the mug and maneuver her out of the mess and towards her tent.

He never tried anything, even if one time she let him in with her, being too tired to let go of an arm wrapped around her shoulders for support. He laid her down on her cot, pulled a blanket around her shoulders and left.

No innuendos, no saucy comments. It looked like Pierce wasn't Pierce anymore.

Or maybe he was spending all of his energy on Captain Perfect here, Margaret thought bitterly and hid her face in a blanket. She heard the springs in Alicia's bunk give out a nasty metallic sound as the Captain stood up.

"I'm going to take a shower," she announced to nobody in particular, and left hastily. Margaret rolled over to her stomach, groaning as she felt another trickle of sweat forming on her nape and making its way down her shoulder. The heat outside still wasn't giving them a break, which was really getting on her nerves. Without bothering to open her eyes, Margaret slipped her shirt off and threw it on the floor, making a mental note to take care of her laundry ASAP. Lying flat on her stomach, she pulled a pillow closer and buried her face in it, deciding she might as well take a nap before Alicia came back. Stretching the muscles on her back, the Major moaned quietly and let the exhaustion take over her.

A cool breeze blowing across her shoulders woke her up. She smiled and stretched involuntarily, arms clutching the pillow, as she tried to savor the unexpected sensation and go back to sleep at the same time. She dully noted a blanket has been pulled over her, up to her shoulder-blades, leaving just her arms and upper back uncovered. She shifted slightly and murmured something that might have been a 'lemme sleep'.

"Would you mind opening your eyes and focusing at me for a moment, Miss Margaret?" a sensual, husky voice whispered against her ear. Her eyes flew open and she almost fell off her bunk as she realized the 'breeze' against her skin was actually Hawkeye's teasing breath. The Chief Surgeon was sitting on the edge of her cot, watching her with a soft, quizzical smile. Alicia was nowhere to be seen.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, sneaking upon me like that?!" Margaret screamed, frantically holding the blanket in front of her body. Hawkeye's smile disappeared, and he stood up, tugging his hands into his pockets.

"I came to ask you about something. You were sleeping, I didn't want to wake you up too violently. I'm sorry." His voice was hoarse and dry, making Margaret feel really stupid because of her sudden outburst.

"I'm sorry, I was just shocked by seeing you here," she said, blushing, her head still heavy with sleep. "What did you want to ask me?"

Hawkeye shrugged indifferently, but Margaret could say he was hurt by her wild behavior. "BJ's birthday's coming, and I thought we could have a party tomorrow… some music, booze, dancing maybe. Rosie's already agreed to host us."

"Do you need my agreement, too? Is that why you came? That's really unnecessary, Pierce—"

"I was hoping you'd go with me."

She gaped at him, a slightly frown on her forehead. Perhaps she was still asleep. "With you? As in – a date?"

"I believe that's the technical term, yes," he snapped, tiredness audible in his voice, and shook his head violently, as if trying to get rid of an unwanted thought. "Forget it, Margaret, I obviously made a fool of myself. I bid you goodnight, fair lady; don't worry, I will trouble you no more."

He turned on his heel and left, before Margaret had a chance to gather up her thoughts. She let the blanket fall onto her lap, oblivious of everything except for one sentence bellowing in her head over and over.

_Hawkeye asked me __out for a date._

_And left before I could answer._

She punched her pillow, feeling an unpleasant stinging under her eyelids – the one that came just before tears would ran. She hated being emotional – which made her feel weak and vulnerable in turn – but sometimes it was simply too much. Too much heat, too many casualties coming in, too many mixed-up emotions fighting with her better judgment inside her head.

"Are you alright, Major?"

She raised her head to meet Alicia's worried gaze, and genuine concern she saw in her eyes was the drop that overfilled the glass.

Alicia watched, awed, as strings of tears began to roll down Margaret's cheeks as she cried quietly. Dropping a bundle of her clothing on her bed, Alicia moved to sit down next to Margaret and hug her, gently stroking her back until the blonde Major regained her composure. Drying her face with the back of her hand, Margaret pulled herself out of Ali's embrace and gathered the long-forgotten blanket around herself.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to come apart like that," she said dryly, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible.

Not that she had any chance against Captain Brown.

"Is this about Ben? I saw him a moment ago, he seemed to be heading from this general direction… That rascal! Did he upset you?"

"My relation with Captain Pierce is my private business, Captain." This came out a little harder than Margaret would have wanted it to, but she still didn't feel ready to confront her feelings, especially not with Alicia Brown as her trustee. In the corner on her eye she noticed Alicia's features clouding with disdain and impatience.

"Understood, _sir_," she answered with a hint of poison in her voice and moved away to slip her robe off and climb to her cot, picking up a book she's been reading recently. As she turned away from Margaret, facing the wall (even though she cut off almost all the light from the lamp), the Major slowly stood up and gathering her bag with shampoo and soap. She carefully closed the door behind herself, and leaned against the wall, mentally hitting herself on the head.

She might have just blown it all. Into particularly small pieces.

0o0o0o0o0o

**A/N:** Flames? Candies? Let me know what you think!

…and could somebody be a sweetheart and remind me in which episode did Margaret dye her hair red? I've been going crazy, trying to remember – to no avail. Thanks in advance!


	4. Chapter 4

" 'No uniforms required'," BJ read aloud from a piece of neatly folded paper he'd been presented by the jolly company

**A/N:** A little more BJ in this chapter…

0o0o0o0o0o

" 'No uniforms required'," BJ read aloud from a piece of neatly folded paper he'd been presented by the jolly company. "Thanks, Colonel, we really appreciate it. And thank you, guys, you're the best friends ever."

"Nah, we're just a bunch of losers who like to hang out around you," Hawkeye replied, swapping his best mate playfully on the shoulder. "Be sure you're in top shape tonight; there are plenty of girls who'd love to dance with the birthday boy."

"Yeah," BJ's voice trailed off, "I bet there are—"

Hawkeye didn't have to follow his gaze to know who BJ was looking at. "Sorry to say that, Beej, but you really got it bad," he said as soon as the company went back to do their jobs.

"I know," the other surgeon sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I need to do something about it. This… this just isn't right."

"Couldn't have put it better myself."

"Hawk, I am well aware of the repercussions. And I do love my wife more than I can tell. It's just – when I look at her – the whole world could cease to exist and I wouldn't have noticed."

"Yeah, I know the drill."

BJ eyed Hawkeye sympathetically and nudged him on the side. "Care to take a walk?"

"Sure. Guess there'll be no unexpected visitors arriving today."

"Let's hope so. I'd rather not spend my party at the blood-stained table, dressed in an elegant set of scrubs."

Dragging their feet away from the compound with no designated destination whatsoever, they finally reached the choppers landing and sat on a pile of wood, hands in their pockets, a grim and heavy silence surrounding them. Hawkeye was the first one to break it.

"I asked her. Yesterday."

"And?" BJ asked, genuinely interested. Hawkeye shrugged.

"Guess my timing could have been better."

"She said no?"

"She yelled at me. I left before she got to the end of it."

"So she didn't actually answer your question?"

"What kind of an answer would _you_ possibly expect after a tirade like that?"

"I still think you should try talking to her."

"Nah, I'll just go alone. Maybe we'll bump into each other some time during the party."

"Which isn't exactly what you were aiming for, is it?"

Hawkeye shook his head. "I was hoping I'd get a chance to talk to her. She's been uneasy recently, and I know part of it is about Ali – I just can't help the fact I'm acting around her the way I am. Most of the people would probably get an impression that there's something going on between us, but that's an old story, and I do not expect it to ever happen again."

"You mean—" BJ swallowed hard "—that the two of you _were_ actually playing doctor at some point of your acquaintance?"

Hawkeye nodded indifferently. "Once, maybe twice, when we were still in high school. It seemed like a good idea at the moment. Everybody's been doing this, and since we trusted each other, we figured out… Well, obviously it takes more than an old, strong friendship to create some sparkles. We never discussed it again, and this chapter is definitely closed. Still," he gave BJ a lop-sided smile, "once you've done it with someone, some barriers are down, and you start interacting in a very… comfortable way. I don't mind Ali touching me, I have no trouble whatsoever with touching her, because I know it ain't going any further. Ali was always there for me when I needed a friend, back on the state side. She's a sister I never had. Somebody who would drink hard with you, hug you, yell at you, but never become your love interest. On the other hand, Margaret has become one of my best friends around here. She drove me crazy, she made me discover some things about myself I wasn't even aware of, and in some way… she helped me become a better person. I don't want all of this to go kaboom because of some misunderstandings." He sighed and smiled weakly. "And right now, I'm not sure I could accept being only a _friend_ of hers."

BJ smiled and took a long, knowing look at his pal. "She really got you smitten."

"She did."

"How did this happen? I mean, I know you two have a… history, but why now? Why not after you got lost and, let me quote your own expression, 'turned to each other'?"

"I have no idea. It doesn't even sound logical. Why should a thing like this happen now, when we had so much time together _before_ Major H. decided to hate me because I happen to be good friends with one woman she can't stand?"

"This is one of the questions I will not answer unless given an appropriate amount of alcohol to stimulate my brain cells."

"Before you proceed to stimulating anything at all, let me ask you about something—"

"I am _not_ in love with her, Hawkeye."

"—Or rather you tell me what's troubling you."

BJ smiled sadly and banged his fist against the log. "The reasonable part of me knows this is nothing more than an infatuation. The emotional part refuses to listen to those arguments. I feel like I've been missing something for a long time, and now I found it. I don't want to let it go – but then I think about Peg, and Erin, and it breaks my heart to realize I'm hurting them, even if they know nothing about it."

Hawkeye remained silent for a long while, gazing off into space and biting his lower lip, until it started to swell. "War is a rotten thing, Beej. It destroys everything in sight, and gives nothing back." He squeezed the other man's shoulder reassuringly, and smiled at him. "Ali is a smart girl, BJ. She will never allow anything to happen if it could threaten your family."

"What if I _want_ something to happen?" BJ blurt out, and covered his face in his hands. "I know I'd go crazy, and regret it the moment it did, maybe even hate Alicia, but – there are those moments when everything stops, and I just want to dive in. No thoughts of tomorrow. No regrets."

"You have to think about the future, BJ. The war's going to be over one day. Ali might be shipped out even before it ends. What are you going to do then?"

BJ waved away his words and frowned. "I know, Hawkeye, I've been down this road again and again. I asked myself all the questions. I'm just still not sure about the answers."

"I hope you will be, Beej. The sooner the better."

"And I hope you get to talk to Margaret. The sooner the better."

Without more ado, the two friends stood up and strolled back to the camp, feeling strangely relieved, but burdened with unpleasant thoughts all the same.

0o0o0o0o0o

The dress was perfect. Knee-length, short-sleeved, cobalt-blue, with a matching belt – something that Margaret got sent from Tokyo just a week ago. She spent the better part of the afternoon trying on some hairstyles to go with it, but in the end she decided to simply pin her hair up and tie it with a blue ribbon she found on the bottom of her drawer. Silently thanking the Divine Powers for the loneliness provided by the nurses, who invited Alicia 'over to their tent, to share some make-up stuff and so on', she sat down in front of her mirror and carefully applied some light-blue eye-shadow on her eyelids.

They asked her to join them, too, but she could feel the forced politeness behind the question and told them she still had some paperwork to do before the party. They probably saw through the excuse, but at least they did not insist. Margaret hated insistent people.

Even though _some people_ should know better than to give up on a case so soon, especially since no answers had been given to certain questions—

Oh _please_, not _that_ again! She scolded herself mentally as she proceeded with the mascara and some lipstick, just a touch to bring out the shape of her lips. Hotlips' hot-lips. Funny, she never thought her lips were hot. Kissable, yes, that might have been the right word – but 'hot'? Honestly.

She paused, her fingertips touching her lips, and looked her reflection in the eye.

It's been a while since she was kissed.

And an even longer one since she actually _craved_ to be.

Because that was how she was feeling right now, and there was no point denying it. She desperately wanted to be kissed – and by one man only.

Maybe she could still work it out? Talk to him, tell him how sorry she was for the way she reacted… Maybe the evening wasn't _totally_ lost?

Thinking positive was the key, she said to herself and smiled at the woman reflected in the mirror. She looked nice, and she wanted this to be a nice evening. To have fun with nice people.

The mood was still on when she opened the door. She lost it a second later.

_Her_ again!

Margaret took in Alicia's dress, or rather a masterpiece than was actually a skillfully sewn plum-purple silk, kept over her shoulders with small clasps and falling down to her knees in a soft, rippling skirt. The dress wasn't tight, and yet the silk seemed to caress her owner's body, together with the eyes of over ninety-percent of male personnel present.

Including Hawkeye Pierce, who was sitting on a bar stool, hosting a glass of bourbon in one hand, and eyeing Alicia approvingly. On her other side, BJ stood with a drink of his own, all his attention fixed on Captain Brown.

She was also focusing on him, and him alone, Margaret noticed with a shiver. This couldn't be good.

"Ah, Major," she heard Charles' unmistakable accent next to herself and raised her eyes to meet his, sparkling with approval and longing. He looked surprisingly handsome in a black shirt and slacks, glass of red wine in his hand. "Care to join me for a drink?"

"With pleasure," Margaret answered, feeling herself pull up a smile of the being-saved-for-special-occasions-only kind. Charles placed a hand on her shoulder and gently guided her towards an empty table on the other side of the room, gesturing to Igor for another glass of wine in the process. Margaret sat down and crossed her legs, part of her mind knowing all too well her dress and heels accentuated her calves in a particularly flattering way. Charles must have noticed it, too, for he complimented on her looks right away. She thanked him, running her fingers down her neck in a mock gesture of abashment. Potter came into the bar and walked straight to them, grinning at her approvingly.

"Margaret, you look damn great tonight," he complimented, touching her arm briefly before he sat down."

"Thank you, Colonel," she replied, taking in his immaculately white shirt. "You look quite handsome yourself."

"Stop it, Major, or I might say something Mrs. P. might disapprove of. Would you honor me with a dance later?"

"I didn't know you could dance, sir."

"Oh, I've been quite a mover back in the old days. We shall see if there's anything of it left in the old bones. If you're not afraid, that is."

"Not at all. Gladly, sir."

"Good. Now, have you wished BJ already? I was planning to go over to him right now."

"I'll join you," Margaret offered with a smile and stood up, taking her wine with her. Charles chose to stay where he was, apparently not too happy to lose the blonde Major's company all too soon. The pair made their way across the crowded floor, before they finally came to stand right next to the trio hoisted on the bar. Margaret could feel Hawkeye's eyes on herself, but deliberately focused her attention on BJ only.

"Once again, happy birthday, son," Potter said, shaking his hand, before he moved away allowing Margaret to kiss the surgeon. "You look gorgeous, Major," he said, smiling at her with his arms still around her. "Somebody might have thought you have a date tonight."

_He knows Pierce came to me yesterday_, she thought, and smiled sweetly. "Maybe I do."

He raised his eyebrows with an uneasy look in his eye. "You do?"

"Let me keep this to myself," she purred, and, with a sudden flash of idea, turned towards Charles, who'd been watching them from his table, and toasted him with her glass. He smiled at her and toasted back, before taking a sip of wine, his eyes fixed on her. Margaret blushed innocently and averted her gaze, heart pounding loudly in her chest.

_Oh God, what am I doing?!_

"I still hope I get to dance with you tonight, though," she said to BJ cheerfully after she regained her composure. He smiled and nodded, but she could say he didn't approve of what he saw. Well, _she_ didn't approve of what Alicia seemed to be doing to _him_, which made them square. At least for now.

Somebody put a record on; the rhythm was moving, swinging, Cuban, or maybe Spanish. There was a movement by Margaret's side, and she witnessed, with her jaw almost dropping to the floor, as Hawkeye took Alicia's hand and led her to the dance floor. She whispered something to him, and he laughed heartily, before dipping her and bringing her back up to a series of turns. They danced together very well, keeping a natural rhythm of their movements, without really watching each other's faces.

_As if they were meant for each other_, Margaret thought and looked up at BJ. He kept his eyes on the pair, his fingers clutching the rant of the bar. She put a hand on his forearm in silent comfort, and he moved it to take her hand in his and squeeze it in a 'thank you'.

"They are just friends, Margaret. Great, close friends."

"Sometimes friends grow to be something more than that," she responded, looking down to the floor.

"True. But let me tell you – Hawkeye wouldn't like his friendship with _Ali_ to grow into something more."

Her head shot up as she eyed him carefully, looking for a hidden meaning behind his words. Beside them Potter was faking a complete disinterest.

"It's your word against what I've been seeing for the last couple of weeks," she said gently, and slipped her hand out of his as she made her way back over to Charles. He greeted her with a smile, and ordered another round of wine. Margaret sipped it gratefully and leaned against the back of the chair, half-listening to him chatter on some insignificant matter.

This was going to be a _long_ evening.

0o0o0o0o0o

**A/N:** So, in our next chapter we shall go back to the party, and see how the evening unfolds… Who knows what's going to happen? ;)


	5. Chapter 5

„Oooh, it's so _hot_ in there!" Margaret sighed and let out a nervous giggle, feeling Charles' arm slipping possessively around her waist. He had just 'salvaged' her from Colonel Potter's company; not that she needed any salvaging: she's been dancing with the CO for more than a couple of songs now, and found him to be a delightful partner. Of course, Charles didn't like it at all, having been left alone at his table. Margaret thought she caught sight of BJ dancing with Alicia a couple of times, but she tried not to think about it too much.

The evening wasn't _entirely _bad, even though it turned out exactly the opposite of what she'd hoped for.

As in: she didn't get to see, not to mention talk to, Hawkeye Pierce since that moment when he danced with Captain Brown for the first time.

First, she was talking with Charles. Then some nurses stopped at their table and spent a while engaging her with some small talk, a slightly forced one, but pleasant nonetheless. Then Colonel Potter came over to request for the dance she promised to him, and she actually started to enjoy the party, all the wine she drank starting to have an effect on her.

And then Charles pulled her outside, as if she was his to take.

She would have protested sharply, hadn't she been a bit more than slightly inebriated.

Where was it all heading, anyway? She sighed yet again, trying to gently maneuver her body out of Charles' grip, and looked around to find some couples occupying the tables that have been taken outside in order to escape the hot, alcohol-logged air at Rosie's. A couple of heads turned to glare at Winchester and herself, and suddenly Margaret felt awfully awkward. She took his hand off her waist and gave him an apologetic, yet cool smile.

"I'm sorry, Charles, I'm tired. Think I'll just call it the night."

She could see the disappointment written on his face, but frankly speaking she didn't give a damn. She was drunk, tired of him, and to top it all up: disgusted with herself. She came to the party with the intention of straightening things up between Pierce and herself, and ended up without even a word said to him, but with an enamored Charles plastered to her as an unwanted bonus. The idea that came to her when she saw Alicia and her new troupe was to tease Hawkeye mercilessly, and to have fun doing so, but it failed completely somewhere in the process. She never intended to lead Charles onto anything, but here she was, telling him politely that no, she didn't need any assistance, as she was perfectly capable of returning to her tent—

—in which the lights were very obviously on.

Or maybe it wouldn't be such a great idea.

As soon as Charles was gone, after biding her farewell in the elaborate and all-too-long way of his, Margaret turned right and headed for the secluded part of the camp behind Father Mulcahy's tent. She remembered, through a layer of foggy inebriation currently clouding her mind, that somebody moved there the worn-out armchairs that had been cluttering the compound for a while now.

And yes, they were there, as if waiting for her to sink into one. Which she eagerly did.

At least it wasn't hot anymore, not outside. Leaning back against the furniture, Margaret closed her eyes and slipped off her shoes, throwing her legs over one of the armrests. There was a slight pounding of blood in her ears, and she felt tired and dizzy, but going back to her tent just now simply wasn't an option. She didn't fancy facing Alicia tonight. Not when she looked and felt like this.

She wondered whether Captain Brown was alone, but dropped it after a mere second, shaking her head vigorously and massaging her temples as the headache struck back. Finally, when she could feel the pain ebbing and a smooth feeling of relaxation washing over her, she let her eyelids fall and started humming to herself the first tune she could think of.

"_Stars shining bright above you; night breezes seem to whisper—_"

"It looks like someone got high tonight," a sarcastic comment was thrown at her. She choked on her words, turned her head away and snorted.

"You could have at least announced yourself!"

"Nah, I didn't want to spoil the mood."

"And what was it you just did?"

"I stopped you from saying something you might not want to say in my presence."

She bit the inner side of her cheek and turned to look at him, spread out on the other armchair, and obviously trying to read her face in the darkness.

"How very kind of you," she hissed and made a move to get up, only to be stopped by his hand catching her wrist.

"Stay. Please."

Her eyes widened at the use of the word she hardly ever heard from his lips. He sounded tired, but serious, and after a moment of hesitation she sat back down, noticing that his hand didn't move away from hers.

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence, after which his thumb moved reluctantly across her flesh, almost making her jump. "Did you enjoy your date, Major?" he asked, the hurt and irony all too obvious in his voice.

"It wasn't a—I mean—it was a very pleasant evening," she finished desperately, happy that he couldn't see her _now_. "Where's Hunnicut, by the way?" she asked, hoping he'd catch on the new topic.

He did.

"I can't be following him around at all times," he snarled, pushing his head back into the back of the armchair. "He's a grownup man. He can make his own decisions, and take responsibility for them."

It finally dawned on her, the meaning of everything that's been going on between them. "You think they're—?"

He shrugged, and she felt it because he was still holding onto her hand. "I don't know. I hope not, for Peg and James' sakes."

"Who's James?"

Hawkeye chuckled, and suddenly brought her hand up, brushing its back against his cheek. "Another one of the Crabapple Cove strikingly handsome guys. He's an architect, works in Boston. He and Ali have been engaged since last fall."

Margaret gasped and sat straight. "_Engaged?_ To be married?"

"I can't tell. People usually get married after they'd been engaged for a while, but I have no experience on this matter." Feeling her body tense, he chuckled and brushed her hand against his face once more. "Of course they are."

She exhaled, feeling strangely dizzy and refreshed at the same time. "Why didn't you tell me she was engaged in the first place?"

"You never asked. And besides… would you have listened to me?"

She sighed and smiled sadly, mostly to herself as he still couldn't see her face. "I suppose not."

"See? That's why I didn't say anything. I was hoping a moment like this would come… though if it was for me to decide, I'd have it come way earlier than it did."

"So, you said she's engaged."

"Correct."

"But there is definitely something going on between her and Hunnicut, who _accidentally_ happens to be married."

"Right again."

She shook her head in amazement. "This is no good."

"You said it."

She turned to him, suddenly feeling jumpy and irritated, the effects of alcohol slowly wearing off. "What about you? Did you try talking to them?"

"I talked to BJ today. At least a part of him knows what he's doing."

"Guess that's better than nothing."

"Yeah."

They fell into silence, struggling with cheerless thoughts, Hawkeye still holding her hand in his. Margaret twisted in her armchair, throwing her legs over the other side, and leaning on the armrest closer to her companion. "Do you think I should try talking to Alicia?"

"You said her name," he said, bemused. "I think it's the first time I hear you use it."

She blushed, once again grateful for the darkness. "I've been having some – difficulties getting to like her."

"Why is that, Margaret?"

Something in his voice, deep, husky and sincere, made her heart jump. "Well, err, I saw the way she was acting around BJ, and I thought—"

"Yeah, right, as if I could believe that. Come on, Major, what is it that you _really_ can't stand about my friend?"

She shrugged, feeling him pull her closer. "Maybe the fact itself. That she is your friend, I mean. I guess I was—I still am—jealous of the closeness you share. I thought we were friends, Hawkeye, but when I saw the two of you… _We_ could never possibly share something like that."

He slipped off the armchair, squatting in front of her and taking both her hands in his. "That is because what we share is completely different, Margaret. While I am perfectly content with the fact of having Ali as my friend, the idea of being _friends_ with _you_ doesn't really make me happy."

She jumped to her feet, pulling him with her, as she struggled to make him let go of her. She could feel the tears stinging in her eyes, and she wanted to run and hide, as far away from him as possible. She would request a transfer first thing in the morning; she couldn't possibly stay here now that he—

"Will you please let me finish?!"

She froze, hearing the hurt in his voice, and suddenly it dawned on her that maybe it wasn't what she feared it was, that maybe, maybe… She could see some of his face now as they both stood up, reflected in the light of a faraway lamp, and the way he looked at her made her knees go weak.

Especially since now, when he was sure he got her attention, one of his arms slipped around her waist, the other moving up as his hand cupped her face and pulled closer to him—

"NOOO!"

They jumped away from each other and ran for it, looking for the source of the yell. It wasn't hard to find: the first thing they saw as they reached the compound was BJ's back, as the surgeon made a run for it, heading blindly into the darkness. They both turned in the direction he was running from, and gasped. Margaret couldn't say about Hawkeye, but her heart nearly broke when she saw Ali standing in the tent door, hands clutching the material of her dress that had been pulled down one shoulder, her tearstained face catching the light from the lamp.

Margaret felt Hawkeye squeeze her arm, and shivered.

"Oh, crap."

0o0o0o0o

**A/N:** I think I've turned into some crazy writing machine. Two chapters in one day… Forgive me, I simply had to let it out of my system.

It looks like it's becoming a more BJ-centered story, but don't worry: we shall not lose the focus!

The song Margaret hums is, obviously "Dream A Little Dream Of Me". I like it, it fits the context, and it mad it to a Top 20 in 1950. There you have it :)


	6. Chapter 6

Margaret stormed into her tent with a mug of tea and a cup contained two pills of sedative, to find Hawkeye sitting on the floor next to Ali's bunk, his hand gently caressing her hair

Margaret stormed into her tent with a mug of tea and a cup containing two pills of sedative, to find Hawkeye sitting on the floor next to Ali's cot, his hand gently caressing her hair. The picture would have made her turn green with envy a mere couple of hours ago, but right now she couldn't care less. Alicia's health was the most important matter in hand, and besides that – even if Hawkeye didn't actually have a chance to _say_ anything to her – she was now convinced that his relationship with Captain Brown was nothing more than friendly.

It might mean the things between _them_ were going to change – but there was no time for this right now.

Margaret sighed and came closer to the cot, putting a hand on Hawkeye's shoulder and handing him the mug. He looked at her and smiled sadly, forcing Alicia up and giving her the pills. She swallowed obediently, and fell back on the cot, clutching the pillow with whitened fingers.

She never stopped crying for a second.

Margaret touched Hawkeye's arm to get his attention, and noticed the uncertainty in his eyes. What should I do, he asked her silently, and she understood.

"Maybe you should go and talk to Colonel Potter?" she suggested in a quiet, soft voice. "You don't have to give him any details. Just ask him to organize a search party. Somebody has to go after Hunnicut before he hurts himself."

"It would do him good," Hawkeye mumbled, but cut off at the hard look in her eyes. Brushing his knuckles against Ali's cheek, he stood up, and bent over in a sudden impulse to kiss Margaret's hair. "I know, I know. 'Don't jump to conclusions just yet, stay calm, everything's going to be alright'… I'll be back as soon as I can."

Margaret smiled and followed him with her eyes as he exited the tent. When she turned back to Alicia, she saw that the Captain watching her intently with red-rimmed eyes.

"Did what I think happened, finally happen?" she asked, desperately trying to joke herself out of a serious conversation. She could be Hawkeye's sister, Margaret thought, and rolled her eyes.

"We are _so_ not going to discuss it right now," she said firmly, and checked Ali's forehead for fever. "Can you tell me what happened _here_ instead?"

Alicia averted her eyes, and when she managed to look at Margaret again, the Major saw through the tears pooling in them that whatever happened wasn't much more… serious than the thing she and Hawkeye shared in the abandoned hut.

Only _this_ thing had really started to get out of control, and BJ ran away before they did something they both would deeply regret. And Ali understood it – but couldn't possibly accept it.

"You wanted him to leave, but needed him to stay," Margaret whispered, gently pushing strands of hair out of Ali's face. "The oldest story ever told."

She could see the brunette was fighting with the sleep brought upon her by the sedatives, and tugged the blanket closer around her shoulders. "Try to get some sleep, Ali. I'll send Baker in to sit with you."

"Please find him," she whispered, clutching her hand in hers, her eyelids falling tiredly. "Don't let anything happen to him, Major. I—we—we both wanted it. Don't let Ben get to him before he listens to—"

"It's okay, Ali, I know." She smiled and patted her shoulder reassuringly. "And it's Margaret."

0o0o0o0o0o

He reached out for her as she came towards him, and pulled her in his arms, both of them thankful for the darkness outside Potter's office. "How is she?"

"She's asleep, I left her with Baker. We should talk, Hawkeye."

"Later," he murmured, inhaling the aroma of her hair. "I don't want to talk, Margaret."

"I'm not quite eager to do it myself, but… I asked her about what happened." She felt his embrace loosening and hated it so much she could scream, but some things had to be taken care of before the others. "He didn't hurt her, or force her to anything, if that's what you were thinking. Whatever happened… and some borders haven't been crossed, you can trust me on this one… happened of their mutual will."

He sighed and hid his face in her shoulder "I was afraid you'd say that."

"Afraid? Why?"

"If he… violated… her in any way, I could simply beat him up and try to forget it, but now… Margaret, my dear friend almost betrayed his wife with a girl I grew to think of as my sister. What am I supposed to do about it?"

"Let them talk to you, and listen to them, before you rush away on it."

"Now look who's talking," he said playfully, nudging her temple with his nose. Margaret rolled her eyes, trying to put a stopper to the bunch of butterflies playing in her belly. Could this man ever become serious?

"Did somebody leave to look for BJ yet?" she asked, desperate to keep her composure despite the fact that two hands attached to a man she was very obviously – and obviously mutually – attracted to, started to roam over her body.

"Mmhm."

"Pierce!"

"What?"

"Have some decency!"

"What can I say? I'm trying to cope with a stressful situation."

"Right," she murmured, realizing that he still didn't kiss her properly. Which was good in one way, and extremely not good in the other. She thought about it in the context of what happened between Alicia and BJ, and chuckled.

"What's so funny?" he wanted to know, but she dismissed him, shaking her head. "I was just thinking."

"About me?"

"Don't get cocky."

"Sorry. You were saying?"

"Hawkeye… Whatever they feel for each other, they need to work it out on their own. You can't possibly do anything about it until they decide what to do. And I know it's hard not to be in charge about something you really care for, but right now your only option is to do what I say."

"Keep that attitude, we might make good use of it some time," he chuckled and let her out of his arms. "Let's go inside, Radar has probably had two seizures in the meantime. They're all dead worried."

"As we are."

He led her inside, and it wasn't until they entered the Colonel's office that she realized his arm was still wrapped around her waist. Fortunately, no one commented on the fact; there were far more important things to take care of.

"How is Captain Brown, Major?" Potter asked, his face contracted and worn.

"She's alright, Colonel. Captain Pierce managed to convince her to take some sedatives."

"Good. The girl needs to rest her head for a moment." He paused, and eyed his staff with careful consideration. "I want your opinion on one matter: do you think we should transfer Captain Brown to another unit on top speed, or should we wait some more?"

"With due respect, sir, as her supervisor I don't think transferring her out right now would have a good effect upon the matter," said Margaret, easily slipping back into Major Houlihan mode. "I admit that tonight's actions will have various unpleasant repercussions, but we should at least try and let Captain Brown and Captain Hunnicut work it out in a civilized way, before we treat them like children who didn't obey the curfew."

"I agree with Major Houlihan, sir," Father Mulcahy added, rubbing his sleepy eyes and readjusting his robe. "The problem we are approaching is far too delicate for us to try and solve it without letting both parties speak for themselves."

Potter looked over to Charles, but the man kept his gaze fixed at the floor, his face indifferent and obviously bored. Margaret felt a sudden urge to slap him, and from the way Hawkeye's fingers dug into her thigh she figured she wasn't the only one.

"I guess I don't need to hear your opinion on this, Pierce. Very well, Captain Brown stays until the two of them have the chance to straighten this all up. Then we shall ask her whether she wishes to remain here for good." Potter closed his notebook and sighed. "We have twenty men looking for Hunnicut at the moment. Radar has already informed the MPs, and they promised to get straight to it. I think we should all get some rest while we can. Hawkeye, I expect you to take care of both Captain Brown and BJ. Don't go too hard on them, son. They've got more than enough troubles already."

"Sir."

"Now, go and sleep. No 'but's," he added, seeing Hawkeye's face, "Radar will wake you up as soon as we know something. Major, make sure there's somebody watching over Captain Brown at all times, then you are free to get some rest as well. Father, I hope I don't have to tell you the same thing. Those two might need your help more than we know. Charles, I believe it's your shift at the post-op? Right. Dismissed."

They slowly made their way outside, and waited for Charles and Father Mulcahy to wander off in the direction of the post-op, Hawkeye's arm still holding Margaret close. As soon as they were alone, he turned her towards himself and smiled, stroking her hair with his other hand.

"So, I guess you're staying at my place tonight."

"What makes you think that?"

"You already have Baker staying with Ali, and you wouldn't get any sleep if you went back to your tent. My mates are not here for the moment, which gives us two spare cots, so I figured—"

"Wait a minute," she interrupted, looking up at him with a flicker in her eyes. "You weren't about to take advantage of me in the progress of, let me quote your words, 'dealing with a stressful situation'?"

"Do I hear disappointment in your voice?" he joked, and began walking towards the Swamp. She didn't protest. "We really need to rest a bit, Margaret."

"I know," she yawned and rested her head on his shoulder. She was half-asleep already before they reached the tent; the last thing she remembered was Hawkeye picking her up and gently depositing her on BJ's empty cot.

0o0o0o0o0o

"Major Houlihan?"

She sat up too quickly, inhaling sharply as her headache struck back, and focused her vision on Radar. "What is it, Corporal?"

"They've found him, ma'am. Captain Hunnicutt. The Colonel asked me to wake up both of you, but I thought maybe you'd like to—"

"Thank you, Radar. Don't wake Hawkeye for another hour."

"Yes, ma'am."

She pulled her boots on and ran after the company clerk, following him into Potter's office where BJ sat in a chair, mud and dirt smeared across his face, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Margaret let out a soft cry and knelt next to him, taking his hands in hers. He looked up to meet her gaze – the empty, haunted expression in his eyes made her shiver.

"How is she?"

_H__is first concern is her well-being._ "She's fine, BJ. Quite shaken, but fine. We gave her some pills, she's asleep."

He exhaled loudly and shook his head. "I shouldn't have done this, Margaret. Back then I vowed to myself it will never happen again—"

'_B__ack then'?... Donovan. But of course._ "BJ, you're not some unfeeling superhero. You're just a man, hot-blooded man. When you meet someone who touches your heart, you give in to them, despite everything else. Men are designed this way. They slip from time to time, even if they have the best intentions." She stood up and sat on the edge of Potter's desk, still holding his hands. "Even I make such mistakes, unbelievable as it sounds."

He looked up at her, surprised by the joke she made. That makes two of us, she thought, feeling awfully tired but pretending otherwise. "What I'm trying to say is – the thing that happened between the two of you happened on mutual accord, but it wasn't exactly the best reason to go with the flow. And you didn't. You walked out of there before it was too late. You made a very difficult decision, BJ, in order to stay true to your heart." She offered his a reassuring smile, before turning serious again. "Still, if you care about Ali and don't want to hurt her even more than you did, you have to talk to her. She holds no grudge against you, nor does Hawkeye, nor do I. But you have to think it all over, and give us some answers. Maybe after you're done talking to Ali you could ask Potter for a couple of days of R&R?"

"I'd rather stay here with you lot," he whispered, and she smiled at him.

"Whatever you say. The most important thing is for the two of you to work things out. You cannot possibly be working together when there's so much tension around you could cut the air with a knife."

BJ watched her face, concerned, but soft all the same, and smiled, seeing that though she surely must have been disapproving about the whole situation, she didn't condemn him straight away.

"Thank you, Margaret. This really meant a lot. I—I have so many thoughts in my head right now, I think it might explode any second. I just wish it wouldn't hurt anyone beside me."

She smiled at him again, feeling waves of dizziness washing over her and blinking fast to will them away. Dark spots were flying in front of her eyes and she felt nauseous, but she reasoned it couldn't be more than her adrenaline level dropping as the eventful night was slowly coming to an end. "Now come on, we need to clean you up before you do any more talking. Post-op is waiting."

She jumped off the desk as he stood up from his chair, and looked up at him – only to feel her head spin as the darkness embraced her.


	7. Chapter 7

Margaret stormed into her tent with a mug of tea and a cup contained two pills of sedative, to find Hawkeye sitting on the floor next to Ali's bunk, his hand gently caressing her hair

**A/N:** Thank you for all the reviews! You really keep me going on. I'm having some time-consuming things on my mind, so I might not be able to answer all of them, for which I'm very sorry. Hope you don't dislike me too much.

0o0o0o0o0o

Hawkeye ran into the post-op with hair messed up, robe hanging loosely from his shoulders. "How is she?"

"Tired, just tired. She needs to rest for a while."

"Damn it, Radar, why didn't you wake me up?!"

"The Major didn't want me to disturb your sleep, Hawkeye. She does outrank you, you know. I'm sorry, I should have—"

" 'S alright," he sighed, leaning heavily on the bed pane. BJ watched him from the other side of the bed, both him and Radar waiting for some kind of a reaction. Finally the Chief Surgeon sat down on the cot, took one of Margaret's hands in his and faced his best friend with a grave expression.

"Look, I still feel an overwhelming need to yell at you and demand an explanation for what you've done earlier, but… For now, I will just say 'thank you'. For helping her."

"Anytime," BJ answered calmly, knowing very well that bringing Margaret to the post-op wasn't going to be enough to count for a repent. He stood up and urged Radar to go with him, leaving Hawkeye alone with Margaret, whose bed had been separated from the room by a thoughtfully pulled up curtain. The Major had an I.V. in, supplying minerals and vitamin compound; the diagnose was quite simple: overall physical exhaustion caused by a combination of stress, alcohol and lack of sleep, but it was enough to make Hawkeye boiling mad when Radar woke him up with the news. He was already worried crazy about Ali, and now Margaret had a breakdown – honestly, he's had enough for one night.

Margaret stirred and opened her eyes, blinking absently in an attempt to remember her whereabouts. "Hawkeye?"

"Here, Major Baby," he smiled and stroked her hair, holding her by the hand which hosted the I.V. needle. "Careful now, you've got a long pointy object stuck in you beautiful body."

"Ha, ha," she scowled at him, bringing her other hand up to touch her forehead. "What happened?"

"BJ says you blacked out in Potter's office. He brought you in here. You've had too much for one night, Miss Margaret. Somebody should be taking greater care of you, you know."

"And I suppose you'd fancy the job?"

He grinned, happy to see her spirits return. "I'll send you me résumé first thing in the morning." His face turned serious, and he gently caressed the skin on her hand. "I owe you, Margaret. I owe you a whole lot."

"Then get this awful thing out of me!"

"Not until you've had the whole doze." She rolled her eyes, despite the fact that she couldn't hide her poor condition from him. "I need to go and check on Ali!"

"No, you don't. I talked to Baker on my way here. She woke up once, and seemed much calmer than before. She's fallen asleep again some time ago."

"What time is it?"

"I'd say about oh-five-hundred, but I'm not sure. Anyway, I should get going. I'm due on post-op duty in another hour."

"Oh," she said with a hint of regret in her voice, happily noticing that – despite his words – he didn't move away from her. "Hawkeye? May I ask you about something?"

"Sure thing."

"Is this what it's going to look like? Us, holding hands on the bed behind the curtain? Embracing in the dark where nobody can see us?"

Hawkeye leaned in, looking at her from a close distance, and combed his fingers through her hair. "I sure hope not. I've got plans for you, Margaret. I've had them for quite a while. Just let me pick myself up; I need to see to this situation we've got going around here before I can fully concentrate on _you_." The sound of his voice, combined with warm breath caressing the edge of her ear, almost made her lose consciousness again – for a completely different reason than before. "I'm sorry it turned out that way, Margaret. There's so much I'd like to tell you: I hope you give me a chance to talk to you when it all calms down."

"I'll think about it," she whispered, feeling another wave of dizziness washing over her. "I think I'm going to sleep some more now."

"Goodnight to you," he chuckled and placed a featherlike kiss on her temple, before getting up to prepare for his shift.

Margaret sighed and nestled more comfortably on the cot. Somehow she couldn't force herself to go back to sleep. There were too many things troubling her. She was ashamed of collapsing in the middle of a conversation with BJ, worried for Ali and the relationship she had with the Californian, and far too relaxed in the arms of a man who had yet to voice his feeling towards her. She could tell that he cared – she'd seldomly seen him this alerted – but the 'why's and 'how's were still to be explained, if this thing between them was supposed to work.

The bed felt strangely big and cold without him as much as sitting on the edge of it.

0o0o0o0o0o

"Cut it out, Pierce! What would people think?!"

"If you stop wriggling and shouting at me, they might become quite jealous," he replied with a wicked grin, holding her even closer. Margaret grunted and dropped her head onto his shoulder as he continued to walk across the compound holding her in his arms, with Radar trotting next to him with an I.V. bottle. The Major's cheeks were burning with a wild flush as almost every person they passed on the way stopped and gaped at them, not quite sure why their Chief Surgeon would be carrying their Head Nurse in a fine imitation of freshly wedded husband an wife.

Had anyone bothered to ask, they could hear Hawkeye's explanation and Margaret's complaints about how low the level of her blood iron was, which resulted in a fierce argument between the two against confiding the Major to her quarters for a while, until her physical state stabilized. Apparently Margaret lost it, having been outvoted by Hawkeye, Potter and Charles.

Men are really such a nuisance at times, she thought dully as Hawkeye opened the door to her tent and gently deposited her on the bed. "Now, since I carried you over the threshold, how about a kiss, honey?" he joked, and swiftly moved away to avoid being punched. Alicia grinned at him from her cot, propping up on one elbow.

"What's going on?"

"Margaret volunteered to keep you company for the next couple of hours," Hawkeye said, hanging the I.V. on a nail upon the wall. "Will you be so kind and change the bottle once this one's emptied?"

"Sure," she responded, and stood up shakily – the sedative hasn't worn out completely just yet. "What's wrong, Margaret?"

"He tries to convince me I've got anemia," the Major grunted and rearranged the blanket around herself as Hawkeye checked on the needle in her arm. "Pierce, is this really necessary?"

"As much as I'd prefer to either have you outside on a picnic, or in this bed as you are, minus the drip, I do believe we need to put you back in shape, Margaret. Come on, play nicely."

"Pierce, I'm warning you…"

"Hush now," he smiled and kissed the top of her head, before turning to Ali and checking her pulse and pupils. "How are you, kiddo?"

She shrugged and lowered her gaze. "Better than I was at night, I guess. I'm sorry for everything, by the way."

"We still have to talk," he said pointedly, but his eyes softened a bit. "And _you_ have to talk to BJ."

"I know," she whispered. "But not just now. Please?"

"Whatever you say. Just do it," he said firmly and turned to leave. "Rest now, both of you. I'll drop by to check on you in the evening."

"Bye, Ben."

As he closed the doors behind him, Ali shook her head gently and came to sit at Margaret's cot. "What happened?"

"I blacked out," she replied shortly, clearly embarrassed of the fact. "But let's not talk about me. How are you feeling? Really?"

Ali sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Tired. Confused. Ashamed. Scared of what I'm feeling. Painfully sure I'd do the same thing all over again if I had the chance. What does this say about me, Margaret? Am I a bad person, betraying the trust of so many people?"

Margaret sighed, not really sure how to answer that question. "Look, Ali, in my time I slept with many men. Some of them I knew were married, some of them I didn't even care. The important thing was _why_ I did it – not because I loved them, or felt attracted to them, no. I wanted to achieve something, my promotion, better position in my outfit. There was always something in it for me. What does _this_ say about _me_?"

Alicia lowered her gaze to her lap and twitched her fingers. "I'm sorry, Margaret. I simply have no idea what to do."

"Talk to him? That's the first I'd do if I were you."

She shrugged. "Talk, yes; that was what we were supposed to be doing when we came in here last night. See how it turned out?"

"Maybe this time you should try taking your conversation into somewhere more… public, than a tent?"

"This might help for a while," the brunette agreed reluctantly, "but what if we cannot act decent towards each other when there's nobody around to keep us in check? What if we can't work together anymore? I cannot make it easier than it's going to be, Margaret. I need to confront him, and myself, under the worst possible conditions, if it's supposed to work out. I know, I understand, but I can't make myself do it. Am I a coward, Margaret?"

"I think you're simply trying to be careful not to hurt anybody," the Major answered slowly, hoping those were the right words. "Whatever it is between you and BJ… You should be aware of the fact it could hurt you, too."

"Hurt me?" Alicia exclaimed and stood up, pacing feverishly across the tent. "_Hurt_ me? Margaret, I'm burning inside! My friends used to tell me things like that can happen—you meet the right person, and sparkles start to fly, you see everything in gold and there's this wonderful warmth spreading across your body… I never believed them. I love James, I really do; I know he's the right man for me and I want to marry him when I get back to the States, but nothing like that has ever happened to me when I was with him! I thought it must have been an expression, a metaphor, and I've forgotten about it—until we entered the Swamp that first day, and I took a look at BJ."

She threw herself on her cot, hiding her face in her hands. "I can't think straight when he's near! The world could have collapsed and I wouldn't notice! Have you ever felt something like that, Margaret?"

The Major thought of the way her body reacted to Hawkeye's presence by her side this very morning, and managed to nod affirmatively.

"Do you think I should give up on this? Go back state side, marry a decent guy who adores me, have a couple of well-bred children? This is all grand, and I suppose many women would gladly change their fate for mine, but why should I settle for cool if I could have melting hot?"

Margaret closed her eyes, understanding all too well what Alicia had in mind. "I don't know what to say. I know I'd probably choose the heat—but I have been badly burned recently, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it."

Alicia smiled at her, propping herself up on one elbow. "We're both crazy, aren't we?"

"I guess we are," Margaret answered, slipping easily into a friendship – a whole new thing – and feeling overwhelmed with gratefulness.

"But we will be alright, won't we?"

"I guess we will."

"Geez, you're no fun to talk to today," Alicia complained in a mocking voice. "Margaret, I promise I'll do my best to work this thing out. There has to be a way out of this Gordian knot that wouldn't require a scalpel. And, Margaret…"

"What is it?"

"Do try to work things out with Ben, will you? He cares about you a whole lot."

The blonde met the brunette's eyes and cocked her eyebrow. "Does he now?"

Before Alicia had a chance to answer, there was a knock on the door, followed by Radar's voice.

"May I come in, Major Ma'am?"

"Come in, Corporal," she answered and gathered the blanket higher over herself. Radar walked in slowly and nodded politely to greet them.

"Colonel Potter wants to ask if you ladies mind having the officers' meeting at your quarters today, seeing that you're both unwell?"

"Not at all," was Margaret's reply, after a silent consultation with Alicia.

"Then we shall be here around eighteen hundred hours. Captain Pierce is to make sure you had your supper before the meeting, ma'am."

"Very well." As the door closed behind Radar, Margaret faced Alicia with a concerned look. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

The brunette shrugged and sighed. "I have to be. In any case, if I wanted heat—I would have to check my immunity to burns…"

0o0o0o0o

**A/N:** So, this chapter was born as a late and painful child—in other words, I needed something to start me into the next one, which will bring some final conclusions. Please stay tuned to find out if and how Alicia and BJ worked out their feelings to one another, and what Margaret and Hawkeye did when they were _finally_ left alone ;)


	8. Chapter 8

She was gone the moment his lips touched hers

**A/N:** Somewhere around the end of this chapter it dawned on me—this will be my last installment for this story, at least for a while. I shall mark it as 'Complete', but if I ever feel the need of continuing this thread, I shall simply start a series of stories :)

Great big thanks to everybody who read and reviewed this story—I'm sorry I haven't been able to answer most of the reviews I got recently, but my influenza has been killing me for the last two weeks, and as soon as I was done writing and updating, I'd skip into a 'hate' phase of my relationship with my laptop, basking in my constant headache groans

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and don't find my way of ending this story too awkward. Please enjoy!

0o0o0o0o0o

Potter looked at the assembled group over his glasses. Hawkeye was sitting sprawled comfortably on Margaret's cot, the Major's back supported against his chest, one of his arms encircling her waist, fingers gently touching the needle still placed in her arm as the second I.V. hasn't finished yet. Father Mulcahy and Charles occupied the chairs in the middle of the tent, while himself had been seated in the legs of Alicia's bunk.

BJ stood by the door with his arms folded, eyes fixed on the floor. Radar, being forced to stand beside him, had a very uneasy look upon his face.

Potter's eyed traveled from one of his Captains to the other, as the old man suppressed a sigh. The tension inside the tent could be bombed—it was far beyond the cutting point.

"I have an unpleasant announcement to make," he stated, consulting his notes. "The CO of an Italian MASH unit called me this morning to ask for an arterial transplant presentation. They'd been having a lot of casualties requiring the transplant lately, and couldn't help them without the knowledge of the procedure, which is why I agreed to spare a surgeon and a nurse for one day, starting tomorrow at twelve hundred hours. Since both Pierce and Winchester had already done their share, this leaves you, BJ. Are you up to it?"

"Yes, Colonel," the questioned man answered curtly and proceeded with his observations of the Bugs Life on the Floor.

"Good. Major, would you be so kind and name the nurse to accompany Hunnicutt?"

"Yes, sir."

"That won't be necessary."

Everyone turned to look at Alicia, who sat up straight on her cot, readjusting the pullover she'd been wearing. "I could go with Doctor Hunnicutt… if that's alright with you," she added in a small voice, raising her eyes to meet BJ's.

He staggered visibly and lowered his gaze for a moment, before meeting Ali's eyes with a definite look on his face. "I would appreciate your help and expertise in this. Do you feel fit enough to endure the journey?"

"I do, thank you," she answered, the politeness behind their carefully measured words stinging everybody in the room. "Major, permission to accompany Captain Hunnicutt tomorrow?"

"Permission granted," Margaret answered hesitantly, seeing the pleading look in Ali's eyes. She could feel Hawkeye's body stiffen behind her, and rubbed her head against his shoulder in the smallest of motions, her fingers intertwining with his on her lap. The personnel present wisely chose to pretend they haven't seen a thing.

"Then it's a deal," Potter concluded and stood up, tired of being in the same place with so much tension flying around. "Thank you for attending the meeting. Dismissed." He went over to Margaret's bunk, and looked her in the eye. "How are you feeling, Houlihan?"

"Better now, thank you, sir," she replied, sitting straight. "Do I really need all this?" she made a round gesture taking in the bunk, the take-away tray of hardly touched food and the I.V.

"As long as Pierce decides you need rest and medical attention, this is exactly what you'll get. Hawkeye, what do you think?"

"I can't say without a full blood examination, but I'd reckon she's better now," Hawkeye answered calmly, his arm still wrapped around Margaret's waist. "I'm even considering a possibility of taking her out for a walk tomorrow."

"How nice of you," she made a face at him, but inwardly she was jumping with joy. 'A walk' could mean anything in Hawkeyish, and she wasn't particularly keen to let the opportunity pass. Hawkeye gave her a knowing smile and stood up, checking on the needle one last time.

"You can take it out once this bottle is done," he said, suddenly looking deadly serious. "I need to talk with one friend of mine, of you excuse me."

Alicia jumped to him, squeezing his arm in a pleading gesture. "Ben, remember…"

"I know, I know," he snapped, but didn't shake her hand away. "I won't kill him, at least not straight away."

With this, he left, leaving two very anxious women behind him.

0o0o0o0o0o

"So, you've got yourself a lovely assistant for your long and tiring journey, huh?"

"Honestly, Hawkeye, that wasn't my idea—"

"I know; I saw your face in there—you were quite willing to dig a hole in the ground and hide if you only could."

"So you don't blame me?"

"Of course I blame you! Who do you think is the reason for her acting like this?!"

"I told you how I feel! You know I'm not some cold-blooded jerk; this thing is affecting me, too! What do you want me to do? Shall I refuse, and tell her she cannot go with me? Do think that would work better?"

"I don't think anything. I just hope both of you come to your senses soon enough, and start acting like two responsible adults!"

"So you think I'm irresponsible, right?"

"Aren't you?"

"Damn it, Hawkeye! I can't shut my heart off and order it to stop beating, for God's sake! Would that be _responsible_?"

"How should I know? I've never been married."

"I've never been in such a situation!"

"Which is supposed to be your explanation?"

"It is not! I'm _trying_ to work this out! Don't you believe me?"

"I don't believe that two people who feel to each other what you two do can act rationally."

"…"

"I don't want any of you to get hurt."

"I would never hurt her."

"I know you wouldn't."

"Then what's your problem?"

"This is not the time for 'would's and 'wouldn't's. It's time for 'will's and 'won't's."

"Give me those twenty four hours. Trust me, Hawkeye."

"Do I have a choice…?"

0o0o0o0o0o

"You know you don't have to do this, right?"

"I'm _fine_, Margaret, I really am. I just need to work it all out, and being able to talk to BJ, and him alone, should help me do that."

Margaret raised her eyebrows, as her eye caught sight of a silk nightie Alicia has being stuffing into her bag.

She wasn't sure if her going with BJ was such a great idea.

0o0o0o0o0o

"Do you suppose she really loves him?"

Hawkeye sighed deeply and handed her a saltine. "She sure thinks she does, which makes it just as bad as the real thing."

"Since when love is a bad thing?"

"Not every kind of love," he stated, looking down on the blanket they were both sitting on. "Some kinds of love, however, could bring more torment than happiness, and that's why I find them unnecessary."

Margaret bit her tongue before she gave in to the urge of asking 'What about us?'. It was far too early to talk of big things like feelings and commitments. Right now she simply wanted to enjoy the sun, as long as she was shaded by a tree, the gentle breeze that eased the heat, and saltines, cold coffee and jam, which were the only supplies Hawkeye managed to steal from the cook for their little picnic.

At first she couldn't help but wonder how many nurses he'd taken out on a picnic before her, and it made her sad and sulky. For a second she feared he might make a saucy comment of her name being finally added to his list of conquests, or anything similar, but Hawkeye surprised her in behaving like a perfect gentleman. She could finally understand what made her nurses fall for him, even with his reputation as the greatest womanizer in Korea following him everywhere he went—he had the gift of making every single woman feel special, and Margaret was no exception.

Which led to yet another question: was this what she really wanted?

Yes, she was quite sure she would like to have him as a lover, but whether their relationship was to remain an obligation-free, open one, or were they to commit themselves to one another, was yet to be decided and, preferably, discussed, before they took their acquaintanceship to another level.

"Am I really this dull, Margaret?"

"What?" she asked, blinking absentmindedly as his voice brought her out of her thoughts and into the reality. He smiled at her, and caressed her bare arm with a straw of grass.

"You haven't heard a thing of what I was saying, have you?" There was no disappointment in his voice, no impatience, accusation or anger. He simply made on observation, and waited for her to comment on it.

"I'm sorry," she said, truthfully. "I was thinking about what you said… BJ and Alicia… and us, here… and how you used to bring other women to picnics… and what it meant for me to be here, and—"

"Margaret," he interrupted gently, placing one hand under her chin and making her look at him, as he leaned into her, "you think too much."

She was gone the moment his lips touched hers.

She thought she remembered the way it used to feel (in fact, she treasured the memories of those few kisses they shared in the course of their… yes, acquaintanceship _was_ a good word), but the time must have made the sensation fade away. Or maybe it was because she's been thinking about it for such a long time. She hung on to him with strength she never knew she possessed, and responded with energy she'd never say she was capable of.

And that was just a kiss.

Oh, my.

Maybe thinking really _was_ overrated, and it was better to simply go with the flow, and see what the time brings?

"Oh, my," she voiced her thoughts after he let go of her, and the ability to form words and sentences had returned. "That was… intense."

"My sentiments exactly," he whispered sensually and pecked her on the lips. "Do you think we could do it again?"

She quirked a brow at him. "I thought you said you're being _preoccupied_ with other things right now… Though it seems _I'm_ the one doing the unnecessary thinking at the moment, aren't I?"

He grinned, never failing to caress her arms and shoulders as he spoke: "I do think about _that_ all the time, but it is beyond our scope to help them out of this situation. I talked to BJ before, and he seemed reasonable enough for me to quit worrying for a while, and move on to far more pleasant matters in hand," he finished, nibbling playfully on her earlobe. "Shall we continue our date, mademoiselle? I am going to require your full attention from now on, mind you."

"Do you have something special in mind?" she inquired, playing with his dog-tags. He grinned at her like a five-year-old who has just been offered a great big lollipop.

"How about a quick visit to the supply tent? There's always your quarters, too, since Ali isn't here today—"

"You're uncorrectable," she stated with a roll of her eyes, and was about to pull him in for another kiss when they both heard the choppers coming in from North. Hawkeye grunted and pulled Margaret up to her feet.

"Never a moment of privacy," he complained with a mock pout. "Still, I'm taking a rain check on—" he kissed her again, more firmly than before, '—some things."

"I'll remember that," she answered, a bit out of breath, and didn't object when he took her hand, already running towards the compound.

0o0o0o0o0o

"It's a small camp," BJ said the following evening, sitting in an armchair behind Father Mulcahy's tent. Ali, occupying the other one, nodded in agreement.

"How long do you think it will be before everybody knows?"

"You assume there's somebody who _doesn't_ know yet?"

She laughed, and nudged him playfully on the ribs. He nudged back, held his hand on her arm for a fraction of a second, and smiled sadly. "I feel like we've gained something beautiful, but lost something special we shall never know about all the same."

"That's the thing about choices," she pointed out, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. "You can't eat the cookie and keep it, something like that."

"I know."

They let the silence fall onto them, holding hands in soft, warm twilight, sipping their drinks. Twenty minutes later Ali broke the spell, giving out a hearty yawn.

"Don't you want to go to sleep?" BJ asked, concerned. "We had one helluva day."

"I do… but I don't think it'll be safe to go back to my tent just yet," she answered with a wink. BJ roared with laughter, but stood up nonetheless.

"You can sleep on Hawkeye's bunk until he's back. That's only fair, you know."

"Aren't you afraid of what people might think?"

"They'll be far too preoccupied with the _other_ thing going around to pay attention," he stated firmly and offered her his hand. She took it, and let herself be pulled up and into his casual embrace. Their faces came close, but none of them moved to close the distance.

"I should request a transfer," she whispered, lowering her gaze.

"Don't," he pleaded, and started off towards the Swamp, not meeting her eyes. "I couldn't go on without you, without this. Not anymore."

As they were passing Margaret's door, it opened to reveal a silhouette of a man, beaming brightly in the slowly falling darkness. Both BJ and Alicia burst out laughing at the sight.

"You look like a cat that just had a whole bowl of sweet cream," BJ stated, letting go of Alicia's hand and swapping Hawkeye playfully on the shoulder. The dark-haired surgeon winced.

"I will not lower myself to answering this," he said with mock dignity, and turned on his heel to embrace a smiling Margaret, who came to the door to check what was going on. "Goodnight, sweet one."

"Goodnight, you freak," she sighed and let him kiss her cheek, since BJ and Ali were sufficiently blocking the view of them from the compound. "Don't be late for your shift tomorrow."

"Well, if I overslept you could always come and drag me off my bed… or at least attempt to."

"You're insufferable," she stated, and pushed him out of her tent. "To sleep with you, and _now_."

"Right, mother," he pulled a face at her, and faked a bow before letting Ali through. "Nighty-night."

As Alicia closed the door behind her, both men could hear a cheerful chatter and giggling from the inside—it took most of their will not to place their ears against the wood and listen. Hawkeye caught BJ's eye and motioned him towards the O'Club, a suggestion that was received with a warm grin.

"So," the Chief Surgeon asked his best friend as they sat in front of the Club, each of them hoisting a bottle of beer on his lap. "It would seem that I got myself a girl, my good man."

"So it would seem. Congratulations, Hawkeye; you've finally done the right thing."

"What about you? Have you got yourself a girl, or have you done the right thing?"

BJ sighed and leaned his head against the wall. "We talked a lot last night. There were so many emotions floating around us, I though the air might boil. Tears, shouts, pleads, from both of us. It was too hard to handle."

"And?"

"And we both realized, after much struggle and staying up until four a.m., that we were too scared of getting burned, and losing the friendship we have, to risk diving headlong into something we weren't sure of."

Hawkeye smiled and patted BJ's arm. "You made the right decision, Beej. Sometimes too much heat and fretting can be fatal for the feelings you have for a person, not to mention other people concerned. I'm glad you and Ali found the way to work things out."

BJ grinned saucily and poked Hawkeye on the ribs. "What about yourself and Margaret? How are things working out between the two of _you_?"

Hawkeye laughed loudly and stared longingly towards Margaret's tent. "You see, my friend… some _like_ it hot."

**The End**

**A/N:** Flames or candies? What shall it be...?


End file.
